


how to save a life

by orphan_account



Category: Bleach
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Family, Ichihime - Freeform, RenRuki too but they're not a /major/ part, Tragedy, also there's an OC, firiendship, she's the harbinger of Ichigo and Orihime coming closer together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 22:36:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3398744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Orihime is a teacher and one of her new students causes her to be naturally drawn to her and her father, and tragedy plays itself all over again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	how to save a life

**Author's Note:**

> first time writing Bleach tbh please have mercy on me but i love IchiHime a lot and yeah this idea presented itself and i just really wanted to write it. kudos/comments are appreciated!! - shina

There were certain events in history that liked to repeat itself, as though to get the point across that inevitability was a constant. Cheating husbands and wives, the constant fear that a person was heading down the wrong path, and the one event that didn’t occur as much but always threatened people with its existence: war. For Inoue Orihime, this was her ability to always be late during the first week of April, when the spring semester usually started. She set multiple alarms, asked her roommate to wake her up two hours before she absolutely _had_ to leave -- but she was a heavier sleeper than she liked to admit.

Even when she thought she’d make it on time, Orihime always made it to the train station to find that the vehicle was packed with people. Patiently, she always waited behind the yellow line until the next express train came, but no matter how long she waited for a slightly emptier train car, she would be squished between other women and sometimes, men who apparently didn’t know what deodorant was or what keeping their hands to themselves meant. While she waited for her stop, which incidentally was only one stop away, she checked her cell phone and saw that her colleague had texted to remind her about the breakfast that was held before the first day of school was officially in session.

“Shoot,” she muttered as the train slowed.

Not many people got off at her stop, and Orihime always _tried_ to be polite as she pushed her way through the crowd so she could exit the train before it closed on her and she had to switch trains again. Still, people sighed loudly and even mumbled under their breaths as she pushed -- not shoved -- through. Her high heels clacked upon gravel and she held her handbag close to her, preparing to run. She was always reminded not to run in heels -- mostly by her roommate -- but if she was going to get to the shop on time, she either had to take them off and start running, or to start running with them on.

For many years, Orihime was always left with the task of picking up donuts from the infamous cafe near the school. She was known for her bubbly personality, her tenacious work ethic, her kindness, and most importantly: her love for sweets. Without even having to ask, she already knew what flavors her colleagues preferred, and since all but one liked chocolate, she ordered an assortment of different chocolate donuts and four strawberry ones. Waiting patiently at the counter, she gave encouraging smiles to the workers in the hopes that it would brighten their day.

She _did_ used to work part-time at this cafe when she was a university student, after all. She knew that sometimes, nice customers made things seem a little better.

“Chocolate Galore Deluxe and four strawberry donuts to go,” the clerk said as he handed her the bag.

“Thank you! You’re a lifesaver.”

“Anything for you, Ms. Inoue,” he smiled and bowed.

Other customers watched Orihime with astonishment as she left the shop, walking quickly to school. It wasn’t frigid cold anymore and she was thankful for that fact because if she had to do this during the winter, she still probably would have been at home crying about how she had to walk in the snow. She climbed up the steps and used her back to push the doors open, and waiting for her were a few teachers who offered to help with the food. She handed the bag over and told them to wait for her in the meeting room. When they were out of sight, she popped her head into her classroom, just a few meters away from the front entrance.

The walls were painted a pale blue and in the back of the room was a bulletin board where she’d stick notices of who was on cleaning duty that week or whose turn it was to take care of the class pet. It was unconventional to have a class pet, but she had gotten permission before she even bought the tiny hamster that sat in its cage at the back of the classroom. She turned her head towards the blackboard and smiled. Leaning against the doorframe, she remembered last semester and how she had transformed students who knew little to no English, to knowing enough to be able to understand sitcoms. When it came time for these students to switch teachers or to graduate, they always came to her with a gift and a low bow, thanking her wholeheartedly for teaching them.

“Ah, Inoue-san, there you are!”

Turning just the slightest bit, Orihime saw her colleague -- dark hair that was pushed away from his face with glasses that sat on his nose but slipped from time to time. She smiled and greeted him good morning and he gave her a tiny smile, the corners of his lips lifting just the slightest.

“You don’t have to call me that, you know, Ishida-kun,” she reminded him.

“It’s weird calling you by your first name.”

“We’ve been friends since high school. I think it’s okay.”

“You still call me _kun_ , you know.”

“Only when I don’t realize it, and only when I’m excited,” Orihime laughed.

Ishida smirked and moved his eyes to the classroom in front of them. He was silent, and despite upholding a reputation as being someone who didn't particularly like anything, Orihime knew for a fact that he loved teaching physics. She watched his expression and it was sullen and tinged with a touch of fear.

“Your last year,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he answered, “I didn’t think it was possible, but I might actually miss it here.”

“You’re gonna be teaching at a university. You’re still gonna be doing the same thing.”

“Just with older, less naive students, and a syllabus that is too advanced for here,” he replied, pursing his lips.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it fun.”

“They’re university students, Orihime.”

“You always liked challenges!” she smiled.

With a look of disbelief on his face, Ishida shook his head and patted Orihime on the head, urging Orihime to be in the meeting room in five minutes. She nodded as she entered the classroom and walked over to her desk, where she pulled out each drawer, making a mental note of what to put inside. Nothing could stop her from having extra stationary in her drawers -- just in case. Smoothing out her skirt, Orihime composed herself for the first day -- especially since they were starting it with a meeting.

The rest of the teachers smiled and clapped as Orihime entered the room, thanking her for being an optimistic person who never failed to get everyone through particularly hard days. She laughed gleefully and sat down next to Ishida, who was on his second strawberry donut.

“I think this semester is going to be great,” the principal announced, “because not only are we one of the best high schools for parents to send their kids to in order to actually learn something -- but we have teachers who actually love their jobs, too.”

Orihime smiled when Ishida nudged her side.

“Remember that tonight will be Open House night, which means you’re all meeting your students’ parents.”

In the back of her mind, Orihime had already planned out how she’d spend time before having to come back to school in the evening, ready and happy to meet her students’ parents. It wasn’t her favorite time of the year, but it was necessary, and it proved useful to explain to the parents what her classes were about. After that, she felt she could carry out her job the way she wanted to.

The meeting was adjourned with a ‘good luck!’ bade by the principal and all teachers swarmed into the hallways, wishing luck to each other. It was a few minutes before the students would come in and take their seats, and Orihime took this time to look at her lesson plan, her heart settling into her chest at the notion that it was a new year, which meant it was also a new start for everyone.

“Inoue-sensei?”

Looking up from her folder, Orihime saw a girl stand by the door. She had dark hair that fell gracefully to the top of her ribs, and her expression was nervous, causing the persimmon-haired teacher to smile warmly.

“Yes, come in! You’re a bit early though,” Orihime said.

“Ah, yeah, I got dropped off early,” the girl said, “my father has an early day at work."

Orihime gestured for the young girl to come inside. It was silent for a few minutes while Orihime watched her sneakily from behind her folder, but when the girl cleared her throat, Orihime's eyebrows shot up.

“Aren’t teachers usually the ones that are a little late?” she asked, her voice low, nervous.

“Well, yeah,” Orihime admitted, “but we had a meeting that was early.”

“Oh.”

“What’s your name?” Orihime asked, setting the folder down.

“Kurosaki Kaieri.”

Orihime blinked.

“That’s a lovely name, Kurosaki-san.”

The girl smiled and excused herself to use the bathroom. Playing with the name in her head, Orihime dubbed it as cute, especially because it rhymed. She looked at the clock on the wall and noted that class was about to start. Chatter was in the hallways as students reunited with their friends from their spring break and Orihime could hear the screams of glee from friends that were found to be in the same class, and friends saying they’ll meet later at lunchtime.

Standing up, Orihime began writing her full name on the blackboard in neat, clean handwriting. She clapped the chalk from her hands and smiled at the students sauntering into the classroom. They all watched her carefully, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that she had been teaching for five years, she would have felt nervous. The bell rang when all her students, including Kaieri, were settling into their seats. Light chatter filled the room as they sat up straighter and faced forward, their expressions _already_ somewhat bored.

“Good morning, class,” she said with a smile on her face, “I am Inoue-sensei.”

They all bade her good morning with little to no enthusiasm. Orihime had every student stand up and introduce themselves; saying their names and something they loved to eat. It seemed to at least stop their eyes from glazing over, making them more receptive to what each person was saying. Just like that, half an hour had passed and Orihime would have to get into their first lesson: English.

“Who here knows a bit of English?” she asked.

Only a few students -- Rin, Kenichi, and Kaieri, to be exact -- raised their hands. They all reached for their workbooks and completed exercises that Orihime asked them to complete. She walked around the room and looked over her students’ shoulders, finding that quite a few of them were struggling. A brief thought entered her mind that perhaps she was setting the bar too high, but that only meant she wouldn't be challenging her students, if she lowered it. A few students read aloud from their workbooks when asked, their voices shaky but determined, and Orihime knew that this would yet be another year she would love.

The rest of the day went by quickly, with Orihime going in and out of classes, bumping into teachers and giving a smile before she began teaching other groups of students, learning whole different sets of names in one day. She always tried to find a redeeming quality for each of her students, because that way, she could at least have a vague idea of what they looked like before she remembered their names.

At the end of the day when she said goodbye to her colleagues, Orihime spotted Kaieri sitting on the bench in front of the school, typing away on her cell phone. She watched for a few minutes, feeling unsettled that the girl wore a somewhat apathetic expression, but when a black Mercedes pulled over in front of her, her demeanor completely changed. Orihime couldn’t help but wonder about the girl, because unlike many of her students when they were picked up, the girl’s smile was plastered on her mouth, for whoever it was in the car.

The only thing Orihime could think about the matter was that she could immediately see: Kaieri wasn't like the rest of her classmates.

* * *

 “I’m telling you, Tatsuki-chan,” Orihime said, “this girl comes from a rich family.”

“Why is that such a big deal though?”

“She just seemed like she was hiding something.”

“Like a big secret?”

“No,” the persimmon-haired woman mused, “more like an individual thing about her.”

“Orihime,” Tatsuki sighed, exasperated, “not _all_ teenagers are like that.”

In her pale hands, Orihime held an onigiri and skillfully turned it until it was a perfect round ball. She clucked her tongue and hummed, refusing to answer her roommate until she was poked in the side of her head. Pouting, the long-haired woman set down the rice ball and wiped her hands on the kitchen cloth.

“You didn’t _see_ her, she had an aura.”

“What _kind_ of aura?”

Thinking for a moment, Orihime hummed before she spoke.

“You know when a kid doesn’t have a mother?”

Turning her head slowly with an expression of incredulity, Tatsuki waited for her best friend to continue. Orihime’s brow was scrunched, indicating deep thought, and she pursed her lips at five-second intervals. She wanted the words to come out right and not like she was being overly worried about a student, which Tatsuki normally accused her of doing.

“They’re usually raised by their dads,” Orihime said, enunciating every word slowly.

“Uh-huh, that’s a given.”

“Her dad’s loaded, Tatsuki-chan.”

“That’s great for them, then.”

Orihime sighed, frustrated.

“It means he’s almost never there for her.”

As though she were walking on eggshells, Tatsuki watched Orihime’s face carefully.

“Which means that when things get hard, she has to pick up her own pieces.”

“You don’t know that,” Tatsuki tried.

Despite the fact that Orihime smiled widely in public, and was seen as a symbol of happiness, Tatsuki of all people knew what her heart was really like. Being kind and being generous wasn’t enough to chase away the darkness woven in Orihime’s heart, and it was truly a phenomenon when she was able to pinpoint certain qualities in individuals that she had just met. It was supposedly helpful, because then she was able to choose who she wanted in her life quicker than anyone else could.

“”Trust me, Tatsuki-chan,” Orihime whispered, “that girl is an endurer.”

* * *

Every ten minutes, the seats before Orihime would fill with different sets of parents and she found she was more than a little nervous, which happened often every year. Still, she reprimanded herself for being clumsy with the copies of the syllabus she had, and even losing a few sheets. Gritting her teeth in distress, she forced herself to move on and do her job. The parents before her sat and listened intently, nodding while she walked them through their children’s syllabus step by step.

Struggling to remember names, Orihime paid attention to facial expressions and the parents' dialect and speech, matching it to the students in her classes. It was a difficult tactic for some, but truly, she was better at remembering faces than names.

Her hands shook with many mothers and fathers, and there were a few bows -- just to be polite -- before she walked them to the entrance, laughing at their outdated jokes. When they thanked her for briefing them on their sons' and daughters' English syllabus, Orihime flashed a smile and walked back to her classroom.

Time was fleeting; it was already 9:30PM and the Open House was ending in thirty minutes. She had met most of her students' parents and greeted them, briefed them, and walked them to the entrance when it was all over. Sighing, she pulled out a flask from her handbag and took a swig of tea that Tatsuki made for her, feeling instantly calmer.

It didn't look like anyone else was coming and with a tiny burp, she began to clean her desk and organize her folder for tomorrow's classes. She had promised Ishida she'd take the train home with him, since neither could remember the last time they hung out.

Pulling the strap over her shoulder, Orihime grabbed her cell phone and train card, ready to leave. Her attention immediately zoned in on the light knocking and heavy panting at the classroom's back entrance, and when Orihime looked, she was more than a little surprised.

In all honesty, she was expecting one of her students, asking her if they could check their desks for a notebook or a cell phone.

Instead, a fully grown man with bright, orange hair leaned against the frame, sweat gathering at his brow. Orihime motioned for him to step inside, grabbing a box of tissues from one of her drawers and walking over to him, smiling at him kindly.

"Thanks," he said, then, "sorry I'm late. "

"Ah," Orihime replied, confused, "who are you?"

The man wiped his brow and forehead, still panting. He took a few deep breaths and kept his eyes on Orihime, only looking away when his panting came to a halt. He straightened his necktie and stood up straighter, his expression suddenly serious.

"I'm Kurosaki Ichigo, Kaieri's dad. "

Out of all the introductions Orihime heard that night, this was the one she _knew_ she would remember.

“Of course!” she exclaimed, setting her things down. “Take a seat, Kurosaki-san.”

Since there was no one else to make eye contact with while she spoke, Orihime found herself looking for Kaieri’s features in her father, but she could find none. She watched his eyes, which were tired and guarded simultaneously, and even his _look_ didn’t match his daughter’s. He listened intently and rested his chin in his palm, his mouth set in a hard line. Orihime trailed off a few times as she watched little movements he made, her words becoming jumbled.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked.

“No, no! Just… you don’t look like your daughter.”

The man’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch and there was a flicker, but when Orihime took a step closer, he allowed an easy smile to play off the corners of his lips.

“A lot of people say that,” he replied coolly.

“She’s beautiful,” Orihime whispered.

“She takes after her mother.”

“Ah,” Orihime breathed, “your wife wasn’t going to join us tonight?”

Tearing his gaze away from her, he looked at his watch for what seemed like a long time. Orihime waited patiently while she smoothed out her skirt and cleared her throat quietly. He looked up at her finally, his expression strained.

“No,” he replied, “she wasn’t.”

Slowly, the atmosphere of the room was changing into something Orihime wasn’t sure what to call other than awkward. Nodding, she handed a fresh copy of her syllabus to him, and he read it attentively. He took a deep breath every now and then and Orihime watched his shoulders rise and fall. She couldn’t help but think they looked like there was a weight on them, and that he looked disheveled because on some days, he didn’t know how to carry these burdens. His eyes were downcast and he blinked slowly, giving Orihime an up-close view of his lashes.

A pang of jealousy hit her; they were so _long_!

“How long have you been teaching?” he asked, setting the paper down.

“Five years. This is my sixth.”

“Where’d you study?”

“UCLA.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“You’re the first English teacher I’ve heard of that actually studied abroad.”

“The demand for people like me is high here,” she laughed.

“So you’re fluent.”

“Yes.”

The man watched her, his eyes curious. Orihime smiled sweetly at him, standing up straighter.

“But,” she said, “Kaieri seems to know a lot of English. I was surprised.”

“Ah, yeah,” he replied, “we used to live in England.”

“That’s amazing! What for?” Orihime asked, her curiosity peaking.

“I had to take a case there, so my firm relocated me.”

“A case?”

“I’m a lawyer,” he said, his tone embarrassed.

 _Humble_ , Orihime thought.

When he spoke, she couldn’t help but think that, like his daughter, he was hiding something, too. Orihime nodded tentatively when he spoke of their life in England, linking it to why he was worried for his daughter. Coming from an American university, Orihime understood that culture played a big part in a teenager’s education. If they had fit in one place, it didn’t necessarily mean they could fit in another.

“So,” she said, “how come you didn’t send her to international school?”

“I was going to, but, she fell in love with this town and asked me if she could go here instead.”

“That’s admirable, but strange,” Orihime laughed.

“She came home boasting about how her English class was already her favorite.”

“Maybe that’s because she knows what she’s doing in it.”

“Or,” he said, “maybe you make it comfortable for her. Thank you for that.”

Caught off guard, Orihime nodded and waved the compliment off, telling him that it was her job to inspire students and to make the environment in her classroom suitable and comfortable. His expression softened and he stood up, extending his hand out to her. Worried that her hands were sweaty,Orihime quickly wiped her hands on her skirt before taking his hand in hers, shaking it once firmly.

“If anything comes up,” he said, “don’t hesitate to call.”

“Of course, Kurosaki-san.”

As he walked out the door, he turned his head towards Orihime, his expression thoughtful. For whatever reason there was, he seemed much less intimidating, much less serious. Orihime gulped.

“Call me Ichigo.”

“Oh,” she blinked, “of course. Ichigo.”

He offered her one last smile and walked out, the heels of his leather shoes clacking, then disappearing completely when he reached the entrance. Orihime still stared at the door, her heart thumping out of confusion and unsatiated curiosity. Although she had intended to figure out more about Kaieri, she ended up with more questions, _especially_ about her father.

“Orihime?” Ishida called from the door.

“Oh, hey! I was just grabbing my things.”

“Who was that?”

“Who was who?”

“The guy that walked out of here,” Ishida said, looking once more towards the entrance.

“One of my student’s dad.”

“ _He’s_ a dad? Jeesh, he looks awfully young.”

“I know!” Orihime exclaimed. “It’s ridiculous!”

Ishida chuckled and motioned towards the door. Turning off the lights and the heater, Orihime walked out with one of her oldest friends by her side, listening to his stories about how horrific some of the parents he met tonight were. She sympathized and shared her stories, telling him that she could only remember their faces, though she tried hard to remember their names. They rode the train and stopped by a convenience store, grabbing a few hot meat buns.

“You think this year is going to be a good one?” Ishida asked.

They stood outside Orihime’s apartment, facing away from the main roads. She chewed her food thoughtfully, savoring the taste in her mouth and swallowing before she answered.

“What makes you think it won’t be?” she asked.

“There aren’t any good years, Maybe good _days_ , but not years.”

“I don’t know,” she said as she took another bite.

“You have a different opinion?”

“Sometimes, good days turn into good years when you’ve come across someone you were supposed to meet.”

Ishida chuckled.

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” she said, “just by one encounter, the way you think could already have been changed.”

It was silent for a few minutes, with nothing but the sound of the plastic bag in Ishida’s hand. Orihime waited for an answer, for an argument, but there came none from him. When she glanced to look at her friend, his eyes were staring up at the dark sky. He sighed.

“I guess you’re right,” he whispered.

“May this year be good to us both,” Orihime breathed.

They finished their food in silence and sat for a while, watching the sky. Her eyes followed a trail of stars and she began to question why people chose paths that were difficult for them, that seemed near _impossible_ for them. Kaieri filled her mind as she thought and there was an undeniable empathy she felt for the girl. In more ways than she cared to let on, the girl was the same as her.

She just had to figure out in what ways.


End file.
